


Just A Home

by blackrider11



Series: Just A Universe [5]
Category: Victorious
Genre: Cade if you Squint, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrider11/pseuds/blackrider11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The house that you lived in for most of your life hasn't been a home for nearly a decade and a half. Your mom died, and your dad was practically a stranger. " Takes place in "Just A" Universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Home

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The house that you lived in for most of your life hasn't been a home for nearly a decade and a half. Your mom died, and your dad was practically a stranger. Even today, there's a gulf between the two of you because neither of you can understand the other and that's not even for a lack of trying on your part. But there is one memory you share that both of you understand well. Both of you lost a part of yourself when she died, you couldn't get angry at him for moving just months after she was buried. Neither of you could stand to be in that house or even the neighborhood longer than you had to. But that shared memory couldn't bridge the gap between you and home life just became a mixture of frustration and mixed signals that quickly spiraled into apathy. You existed, you acknowledged, you ate, you slept, but it wasn't living, and it wasn't home. It was just a place where you did the bare minimum to function.

But it's different when you walk up the driveway into the smallest, and probably oldest, house you've ever been in but it's the one you share with your best friend. The floor boards on the stairs creak like an old woman's back, the bathroom door adjacent to your room needs the knob jiggled in order to open, certain windows are drafty, some other window don't quite shut, the walls allow you less privacy than you'd like, and you're pretty sure that there's a leak somewhere in the ceiling of the kitchen. But through it all there's this feeling. The feeling is still strange but you've felt it before a long time ago and you can still recognize it. It's even more prominent on nights like tonight when Cat wanders in barely awake and climbs into your bed, and you know that this is what it feels like to _be_ home.


End file.
